


Don't Talk To Strangers; You May Fall In Love

by christeh251298



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christeh251298/pseuds/christeh251298
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did your Momma ever tell you, "Don't talk to strangers"? Well, she left out one small detail.<br/>"Don't talk to strangers; you might fall in love."</p>
<p>Harry works as a bartender at Niall's pub in London. All he longs for is to meet someone and fall in love. One day, a dishevelled blue-eyed man comes in, yelling down the receiver of the phone attached to his ear.<br/>He is everything Harry has ever wished for, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Talk To Strangers; You May Fall In Love

Harry sighed.

It was just another cloudy, gloomy day in London.

The bar was full of chatty strangers who never seemed to have anything better to do except for downing more than a few pints. Yes, his mother has told him not to talk to strangers, but it wasn’t like he had many options of people he could talk to, does he? What harm was there anyway?

 

It’s quite sad how he ended up with this dead-end job. He had abandoned—well, not _abandoned_ , he just left home with a single written note—to move to London, pursuing “fame” and “fortune”. Of course, his young, naïve little mind didn’t know any better.

Honestly, Harry wanted to call his parents and ask them for advice, but having changed his sim-card upon arriving London, he really didn’t have a way to communicate with his family again. He now knew he really shouldn’t have done that, because despite that fact that he is starting a new life, he would still wanted to have reconnected with his old life. It’s too late now; his parents and older sister would probably hate him for leaving on such a short notice anyway. When he was ready and had the money, he would go back to Cheshire and look for his family. However, he was still quite far away from his goal of going back with the appropriate amount of money.

The big city gobbled him up almost immediately. He couldn’t find any paid internships or suitable part-time jobs that at least paid more than 10 pounds an hour. Considering the fact that he only brought along around 200 quid—he really thought he could make it—he ran out of money quite quickly, and just as he was about to begin begging for some cash to live on, he came across this _lovely_ little pub where he met his best friend, Niall Horan.

 

Now, Niall Horan was completely opposite to Harry Styles. Harry was dark and gloomy that regretted his decision of leaving his family without a fully thought out plan. Not that he was depressed or anything. He just didn’t shine quite as brightly when compared to Niall. Harry didn’t cut or do anything he would definitely regret. He just always saw the negative side of things.

But Niall, oh little, innocent Niall. He was like this little ball of sunshine that could brighten up your day with just a pure smile. There was no one quite like Niall.

 

Harry could always count on Niall, because let’s face it.

No one else would bother to deal with his shit.

Which was why Niall was Harry’s best friend.

 

“Oi, mate! I don’t pay you to sit around and daydream all day!” The strong Irish accent broke into his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Harry tilted his head up and looked into the blue eyes of his brother-from-another-mother, Niall.

 

Niall owned this dingy little pub, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t exactly unpopular, though a lot of income didn’t come in very often. The both of them still get by quite nicely, since they share a flat and costs, which in Harry’s perspective is a really smart way of saving money.

 

“Get to work, Harry,” he laughed and went to call a cab for a middle-aged fellow who was too drunk to remember his own name.

 

Harry sighed. He didn’t understand grown men sometimes. More than half the population of middle-aged men in the world is usually married and has a family, or at least has gotten engaged for a while. He didn’t understand why they would want to get wasted in a pub with a crowd of other bearded guys who always seemed to have a weird stench.

He always thought to himself that if he was married and had a family, he would spend every moment possible with the ones he loved. Harry wanted nothing more than someone to love.

Unfortunately for him, the situation was a lot more complicated. Out of all the men he wanted, he wanted one from the small portion of the entire male population that liked other guys. Yes, Harry was gay. People respected him for it, though it just might be the fact that the people who go in don’t care about anything other than getting drunk.

Harry just wanted somebody to love, but even that was too much to ask.

 

***

“Why can’t I find a man?” Harry whined and pouted, much to Niall’s annoyance.

“You’re testing my patience here, Harry. Can you whine while mopping the counter?” Niall replied, being used to Harry’s daily rants about being single.

 

Niall was in a happy relationship with his long-term boyfriend from high school, Liam Payne. It was quite envious how both boys had their future planned out. They had graduated high school and university together, and they had promised to possibly live together here in London, where they both had a steady job. Niall’s parents had had this pub for over a few generations, so it was only logic that Niall took over. Harry found it a bit unfair to Niam—he was too lazy to say both their names sometimes—that he had to live in their spare guestroom, possibly ruining their chances at alone time and— _ahem_ —sexy time.

Liam and Niall had always said that they didn’t mind, but Harry couldn’t help but feel like he’s barging in on something sometimes. Sex is important to ones relationship and he was worried that they didn’t take that…vitamin enough, to put it in a lighter way. To be honest, Harry has once locked them in the bedroom and “not letting them out until he hears them have orgasm”—which they did and Harry only unlocked the door and patted their sweaty backs. It may seem creepy to most people, but Harry was a true friend that cared. People like that didn’t come around very often anymore.

 

“Stop teasing me! I need a man!” Harry wailed dramatically.

Niall only rolled his eyes, used to the antics his curly-haired friend had.

“Well then, go out or something! Or if you’re extremely desperate, go Internet dating,” Niall suggested innocently.

“You must be absolutely crazy. I may be desperate, but I’m not going to actually let people know that!” Harry wailed once again, “I’m so forever alone.”

Niall rolled his eyes. _Was he seriously quoting Facebook and Tumblr shit?_

“Well, if you won’t go out, you’ll just end up whining and pouting for the rest of your life,” he stated.

Harry only ignored him.

“I’m never going to find a man! I’m so desperate right now; I am seriously considering marrying humans with a vagina! What do I do? I mean, I am probably going to be that 70 year-old bartender with 30 something cats and knits sweaters all day, who never has interesting and meaningful life lessons because he’s never been in love! Yes! I am going to be THAT bartender! What do I do?” he ranted and whined.

 

Niall sighed. Harry was never going to listen to him about going out and actually finding a guy to date. He was practically convinced that he was unattractive and socially awkward, and that 99% of the men he meets and likes are all straight. (“ _Oh please Harry, more than 50% of London is gay right now.” “ **Well they don’t like me, Niall!”**_ )

 

Knowing Harry wouldn’t listen to him anyway, Niall joked, “Please don’t take up knitting, mate.”

Harry only chuckled.

“Might as well. Crazy cat lady with a knitting addict: the male edition.”

With that, the two boys broke into laughter and continued setting up the bar to start a new day.

 

***

 

“Mate, it’s almost closing time! It’s 11:56!” Niall yelled from the back.

“I might take a while. I still gotta change from the uniform and mop up the counters,” Harry yelled back.

“You’re so lazy, couldn’t you have done that half an hour ago?” the Irish voice scolded him.

“It wasn’t my fault that the last customer decided to barf right where I cleaned literally a minute earlier!” Harry protested.

“That’s your problem! Thank God I’m leaving early,” Niall chuckled, coming out from the back room with a comfy black jacket and a brown satchel ( ** _“Niall, did you get a purse?”_** _“It’s a satchel!” **“So, a man purse?”** “Oh, sod off. Liam loves it and has a matching one!”_ ).

“Wha—hey! You’re leaving me here to clean up old-man puke?” Harry yelled running after him.

Niall laughed and ran out the pub and down the street.

“See you at home!” he yelled from a distance.

Harry cursed under his breath and shuffled back into the pub.

 

Harry had just finished moping the last of the vomit and sprayed a lot of air-freshener onto the spot where the counter had been puked on. Just as he was about to go into the back to change back into his casual clothes, the door of the pub banged open.

“Hey mate, we’re clo—“ he cut himself off.

 

A disheveled blue-eyed man scurried into the bar, closing his umbrella and shaking some rain out of his hair. Harry had never seen anyone as beautiful as him before.

 

“Zayn, you twat! Why are you always such a lazy arse, Zayn? The deadline is this Friday. FRIDAY! We don’t have a whole fucking weekend to finish this. It’s the most important painting of this semester and—I really regret pairing up with you and your lazy arse. I really don’t care if you want to spend more time with your girlfriend, Zayn. At least find some other time to shag your girlfriend! I care about a good grade and an outstanding masterpiece, Zayn! The least you can do is respect that.”

With that last note, he hung up.

 

Louis wasn’t really a bad person normally. However, when he was stressed and freaked out, he tended to, well, freak the freak out.

Unfortunately for his roommate and best friend Zayn, who also happened to be his art class partner, Louis had been stressed out about this semester project ever since they had been informed of it.

Their project was to paint an important aspect of the partner, and right now, Louis has an outline of Zayn’s “habitat”: his bed, his girlfriend and his hair care products. He has sketched the general idea of his painting, and was planning to actually add in some colour the following day. However, having just been informed that Zayn had not done any work whatsoever, Louis was pissed. He has been at his roommate’s throat ever since he had been informed of the terrible news, and to calm down, he headed down to the pub while ranting all of his negative thoughts into the phone.

Oh no, he would never actually call his best friend up and yell at him like that. Louis recorded all his rants and negative thoughts so whenever he and other person made up, he would listen to the recording again, chuckle at his old idiotic self, and delete the recording. All his friends knew that, so they made sure to never open Louis’ voice recording box. The last person who did that ended their friendship altogether, and to be honest, Louis was a really good friend that no one really wanted to lose. They knew Louis went out of line sometimes, but they knew they were all out of anger and exaggeration.

 

As Louis throws his lanky little body onto the stool, a certain green-eyed, curly-haired lad is already staring hard at the blue-eyed Doncaster boy.

 

“Everything okay, mate?” Harry asked with concern.

Louis’ cold, angry eyes turned warm as they scanned Harry’s body up and down. _Rawr._

“It is now.”

Louis looked up into Harry’s emerald green eyes. And time stopped.

There was no explaining this amazing sensation and connection. Both boys felt like their breath was caught at their throat, and that their heart was pounding so hard and loud that they were afraid the entire city of London could hear the both of them. Harry and Louis’ mouths twitched at the corner, turning into a small, loving smile at almost the exact same time. Harry could feel his cheeks and ears heating up while Louis clenches and unclenches his fist in hopes of stopping the sweating of his palms. Harry’s legs felt tingly and if the slightest thing hits them, they just might come crumbling down beneath him. Louis was in the same situation, but luckily he was still seated on a stool. There really was no way to explain this kind of feeling unless you have actually felt it. It was like the entire world only consisted of the both of them, or at least, only the two of them mattered to each other. They didn’t care that they looked like something straight out of a cheesy romantic movie, because they finally understood how it worked. They finally knew why people do stupid things and be totally out of character. Louis couldn’t say that he didn’t believe in love at first sight, because he did; he just didn’t expect it to happen to him. But if this wasn’t love, then what is it? This strange attraction to a stranger he hasn’t even held a proper conversation with, it was so weird, but it doesn’t feel wrong. As for Harry, he had always hoped and dreamed for this moment, but he just never thought that it would come true. He was so smitten and drawn into the blue-eyed angel, he hadn’t noticed his hand slipping on the freshly mopped bar counter.

 

“Oh fuck!”

Louis snapped out of his trance as he noticed this stranger—his lover—almost slamming his head on the marble counter. He immediately shot his hands out to secure the boy’s, no, man’s shoulders and get him back up straight.

“Um, **_oops_**?” the green-eyed stranger smiled cheekily.

 

The blue-eyed stranger stretched his hand towards Harry, gesturing for a handshake.

“ ** _Hi_** , I’m Louis,” he replied with a dazzling smile.

“Uh, Harry,” he introduced himself.

 

Louis smiled at Harry. Beautiful, beautiful green-eyed Harry.

Harry cleared his throat and gestured towards Louis’ iPhone still clutched in his tiny hands.

 

“So um, rough phone call, huh?” he tried to start a conversation.

“Huh? OH! I wasn’t actually on the phone per se—“ he made an air quote with his fingers “—I was actually recording my rant.”

 

_Harry had the most adorable confused face._

 

“It’s a thing that I do, you see. Instead of letting my anger out on my friends who have actual feelings, I do it to my phone. The closest thing to feelings on my phone is Siri, so it’s just better to do it here.”

 

_Louis’ rambling is just the cutest thing in the world._

 

“Wow, that’s actually quite clever. I always rant to Niall. He’s basically my only friend here. Well, him and his boyfriend,” Harry replied, blushing as he stared at the ground. _God, does Niall ever **clean** back here?_

“That’s quite sad, I mean, to only have one friend. Doesn’t Niall and his boyfriend ever introduce you to any of his friends or ex’s even, or is he isolated too?” Louis tried to joke.

“I’m just never keen on meeting new people. I’m quite shy and socially awkward. Besides, some people are just creeped out by the fact that I like guys. They don’t bully me or anything, they just feel like they can’t get too close to me because I’ll start crushing on them or something.”

Louis nodded in understanding.

“I know what you mean, mate. I mean, my best mate, Stan and I used to be so close to each other, and once I came out, he just started to drift away. We were both still the same people, but I guess I sparked some fear in him that won’t ever be put out. I explained to him many times that I wasn’t gay for him or anything, but he was still cautious,” Louis explained to the taller lad. _He looks young; **how** is he more than six foot tall?_

 

The two lads ended up sitting at one of the tall, round tables in the middle of the pub, talking about everything and nothing until 1:53am when Harry’s phone buzzed, notifying him of a text message.

 

_WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GET THE FUCK HOME YOU LIL SHIT!!!_

_\- NiallerTheRoomie_

 

Harry gasped when he saw the time. Louis frowned.

“What’s wrong, Hazza?”

In the time they had just met, they exchanged multiple trivia questions about each other and had also started calling each other by their childhood names.

“It’s past 1 in the morning, Boobear! Shouldn’t you head home?” Harry replied, worried for his new friend/crush/potential lover.

Louis checked his own phone and widened his eyes.

“Oh God, yeah. I do have to go.”

 

As both boys grabbed their jackets, they couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen after this. They had gotten on so well, and they couldn’t deny the obvious attraction they had towards each other.

They both headed out the pub together. Louis waited patiently as Harry securely locked the door of the pub—while he thought about what else his nimble fingers could do—and both of them headed in the same direction.

“So, where do you live?” Harry asked Louis.

“Uh the Rosewood apartments? It’s quite near the dodgier side of the city,” Louis gestured towards a random direction. It was quite hard to see without the bright city lights.

“Oh, I actually live there too!” Harry exclaimed, surprised at the new discovery. This hot thing has been in my building all along and I didn’t know it? Damn it Harry, I thought you had a better gaydar than that.

“Really? All this time…” Louis trailed off, chuckling to himself.

 

As they walked towards a darker part of the way home, they heard some noises.

“Man, I’m fucking pissed.”

“I’m pissed and high.”

Both men chuckled whilst Harry and Louis silently swallowed their gulps.

“We’d be lucky if there are any chicks here at this hour.”

“I know right, man. I’d bang her good.”

“She’ll be crying for help.”

The drunk and apparently high men laughed again.

 

“Shit, drunk drug-addicts who commit rape? This is not our night,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear while the both of them hid in the shadows.

Harry scowered the place and beckoned for Louis to follow him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis hissed.

“Just trust me,” Harry said, looking into Louis’ eyes with a reassuring smile.

The two scared loverboys snuck around in the shadows and into a dark narrow alley.

 

“Did you hear something?”

 

Harry froze and immediately pressed Louis against the wall, concealing the both of them with his tall frame and dark shirt. Because honestly, bright red was not a real appropriate closet choice in this situation. Harry looked down at Louis, only to find him looking back up with his scared blue eyes. His bottom lip trembled slightly.

“I’m scared,” Louis whimpered in a volume lower than a mere whisper.

 

“Let’s just head to the club, mate. Probably some homeless person sleeping on the floor again.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s get even more shitfaced.”

Their evil chuckles and laughs faded as they walked away.

 

Harry looked into Louis’ stunning blue eyes again.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Louis buried his face into Harry’s chest and nodded slightly.

“We can wait a bit, just in case they’re still there,” Harry whispered the suggestion.

Louis shook his head.

“Let’s just go home. Zayn and Niall are probably worrying their heads off.”

Louis lifted his head from the steady beating of the taller boy’s heart and grabbed his hand. Harry looked at their now intertwined fingers, lips forming a small smile.

“You don’t like that?” Louis asked, not seeing Harry’s grin.

“Uh, no, I like it. Uhm, I love it actually,” Harry smiled even wider.

 

The two boys held hands all the way back to their apartment building and stepped into the elevator.

“Um, I’m in 9B,” Louis said.

“Huh. Lucky coincidence, I’m in 10B. If you ever need me, just bang on the ceiling,” Harry joked.

“I’d rather not make the paint peel off,” Louis laughed.

“You’re quite comedic,” Harry commented.

Louis only blushed.

 

The elevator stopped with a loud ding and the doors opened.

“Well, this is me,” Louis said, stepping out of the lift.

Harry held the doors open with his hand.

“Wait, can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up again?”

Both boys were blushing a dark red, but luckily the lack of light concealed their coloured cheeks.

They exchanged numbers and waved goodbye.

 

“Harry? HARRY! Where the fuck were you, mate?” Niall’s voice boomed through the flat.

“I think I fell in love,” Harry sighed, the image of the perfect blue-eyed boy still fresh in his mind.

 

***

 

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Louis bonded more and more as friends, eventually admitting their feelings for each other over an accidental kiss—Louis swears that he really tripped sideways when he saw Harry randomly laying on his living room floor—and they have been dating ever since.

Louis is more and more inspired in his artwork every day; Harry is his muse. Almost every coloured canvas had a hint of his Hazza in it. Louis’ artwork is so inspiring and beautiful, his work has been recognized by agents all over the world, and eventually, he takes up one of the talent agents’ offers and decides to open up his own gallery.

 

“It will be amazing, Haz! A majority of my own artwork will be there, of course. But I’m also featuring the works of many of the best modern artists out there! Oh my God, it’s going to be perfect!” Louis rambled on about his grand opening of the gallery.

“It’s not your first art show, Boo,” Harry chuckled.

“It’s the first one I actually host!” Louis protested.

They were both standing in the middle of Louis’ living room. Harry practically lives there anyway; he never stays in his own room because he would sleep with Louis every night. They haven’t done it yet though, because they both had wanted their first time to be extremely special.

“Well, I look forward to seeing it tonight, Boo.”

And with that and a kiss on the cheek, Louis relaxed into Harry’s arms and smiled.

 

 

That night, Harry and Louis were both dressed in formal and dapper tuxedos, entering the main doors of Louis’ brand new studio.

The minute the doors opened, bright colours filled Harry’s eyes. All the paintings were on the walls, surrounding a small table covered with a white cloth that held all the drinks. There were paintings from other modern artists on the left and right sides. But smack in the middle, the largest display of the entire art show was Louis’ work.

In big golden letters, the theme of the show was hung up high on the wall. “LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT”.

 

Harry was mesmerized. On the walls, he could see paintings of dark alleys, pubs with neon-lit signs, the elevator door in a dark hallway, basically almost every place he and Louis had been to together on that fateful day. Each painting had shown traits of Harry that Louis loved the most, only including smalls hints that people only caught if they knew the couple long enough.

The biggest painting of them all, and Harry’s personal favourite, was outstandingly beautiful.

It was a painting of the table the two of them sat at on their first conversation. On the table was Louis’ illuminated phone, the screen reading “Ten New Unread Messages”. That was the exact number of texts Louis had received that night before they realized the time. Next to the phone were two clear glasses. Harry had offered to make them both drinks before chatting. Two and a half martinis later, they were both chatting like old friends, but still maintaining most of their consciousness. There was a dark shadow of a curly-haired man tilting his head back in a hearty laugh with his eyes squinted shut in laughter, along with his large hands clapping together in appreciation. Normally, if people didn’t know Harry, it would just be a random stranger laughing at the opposing partner’s joke, perhaps falling in love right at that moment. But if they knew Harry and Louis well, they would be able to tell that it was Harry, and that it wasn’t the man in the painting who fell in love. Louis has babbled on and on about Harry’s melodic laugh many, many times, and has talked about how his laugh was the thing that made Louis fall the hardest.

 

Harry was absolutely speechless.

“Boobear…I-I don’t know what to say,” Harry stuttered, tearing up quickly.

Louis immediately jumped to his partner’s side.

“Do you not like it? Oh my God, I didn’t even ask your permission to broadcast our entire relationship! What was I thi—“ Louis was cut off with a pair of lips on his.

“I absolutely love everything! I love your art show; I love your paintings, especially that one in the middle. Oh, I just…I just love you. It’s all perfect; you’re _perfect_ ,” Harry ended with a teary smile, teardrops now streaming quickly down his blushing cheeks.

Louis cupped Harry’s cheeks in his hands and the couple shared a sweet kiss.

 

Later on that night, Louis had another surprise.

“I would like to propose a toast to this beautiful gallery, and to my amazing boyfriend, Harry, without whom all my inspiration would not have come. I remember the day I met him. I was just so mad at my best friend Zayn for not finishing his part of an art project. Looking back now, I didn’t really know why I was so angry. That was the happiest night, or morning, of my life. All these paintings are based on that one night. The night I truly experienced love at first sight.”

Harry was letting teardrops drip down his cheeks as he listened to Louis’ speech, but the next part certainly caught him off guard.

“With that in mind, would Harry Styles, my beautiful and perfect boyfriend please come up?” Louis requested.

Harry widened his eyes in shock and horror of having to get in front of a crowd—he still had slight anxiety in front of a big audience. With shaky legs, Harry got up and walked to where his lover was standing. Louis grabbed Harry’s left hand and got down on one knee. Gasps ringed through the gallery.

“People might say this is too early, but I don’t care. I know you’re the one the moment I looked into your big green eyes, and I was even more certain when I had the honor of hearing your melodious laughter. I am absolutely, 100 percent sure right now that I want to make you my fiancé, and future husband.”

Harry and the rest of Louis’ guests were crying hysterically by now.

“So, I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Louis opened up a velvet box, revealing two beautiful golden engagement rings with engravings on it.

“…Harry Edward Styles? Would you do me the honor of being my handsome and perfect husband?”

Harry was speechless and his cheeks were stained with newly dry tear streaks. All he could do was nod frantically, mouthing the singular word.

“Yes.”

Louis broke into a wide grin and took out one of the rings. He slipped it onto Harry’s ring finger—perfect fit—and slipped on his own.

Harry admired his ring and read the engraving.

 

“ _Don’t Talk To Strangers <3_”

 

Harry looked up at Louis, confused. He only smiled and showed Harry his own engagement ring.

 

“ _You Might Fall In Love <3_”

Credits to:

<http://cheerleaderlouis.tumblr.com/post/79847809444/au-where-harry-works-at-a-bar-and-all-he-does-is>

 

<http://harryandlouisareupallnight.tumblr.com/>

 

<http://www.flickr.com/photos/nep/6851169714/>


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